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munson-blurbs · 2 months

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The Boy is Mine (Bug's Version)

Part of @carolmunson's writing challenge! Thank you for spreading some love and joy in this community, and I hope this fic makes you smile.

Summary: A cozy night in with your sweet boyfriend who is a nuisance in the best way.

Warnings: allusions to smut, allusion to spitting, lewd jokes, basically just fluffy fluffness

WC: 1k

Poke.

Poke poke.

Poke poke poke.

Poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke–

“If you don’t stop,” you hiss without looking up from your chemistry notes, “we’re gonna have a problem.”

Eddie pulls his forefinger back from where it’s pressed against your earlobe, his shit-eating grin morphing into a pitiful pout.

“But it’s date night,” he whines, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You promised me we could curl up and watch Monty Python after an hour, and it’s been…” he glances at the digital watch wrapped around his wrist, “...one hour and three minutes.”

“I’m still trying memorize–”

He snaps the small notebook shut and pulls you closer to him, effectively cutting you off. “And you will–after the movie.” Leaning back against the couch, he lines up his finger to once again prod at you. “C’mon, Sweetheart; we never get the place to ourselves on Friday nights.”

He’s right; his uncle has off on Friday nights and usually prefers to spend his free time relaxing at home, but he’s on a fishing trip this weekend with some of his old army buddies.

“Okay, okay.” Truthfully, you are in dire need of a break; the formulas and lists of molecular compounds have all become meaningless squiggles right before your eyes. Your back hurts from being hunched over the snack table you’re using in lieu of a desk. Whatever ‘studying’ you do now will likely be unproductive, so you might as well snuggle up next to your boyfriend and enjoy a movie. “But only if I can study after. Some of us would prefer not to spend an entire decade in high school.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs. You’re the only person who’s allowed to crack jokes about him being held back–twice–and you milk it for all it’s worth. “Aw, don’t be like that. That’s not even true. It’s only been six years. And I’m gonna graduate this time. So, ha.” He sticks out his tongue, making you giggle in turn. “But, fine. You can go back to your smart person mumbo-jumbo once we finish the movie and have sex.”

The last item on his agenda snags your attention as you swing your legs onto the cushion, its stuffing poking out from beneath its worn fabric. “Excuse me?” You cock a brow in disbelief.

“As compensation for the three minutes you spent neglecting me,” he explains with a shrug. “‘S only fair.”

“Sure. You usually only need three minutes anyway.” You lift your foot to dig it into his side, but he grabs it before you can tickle him, playfully bringing it towards his open mouth as though threatening to bite it.

To be honest, you wouldn’t put it past him.

“Best three minutes of your goddamn life.” His smirk makes a triumphant reappearance as he stands up and pads over to the kitchen. The refrigerator light illuminates him in a bright glow, a juxtaposing halo on the man wearing a shirt with a cartoon devil plastered on the front. “Wayne took all of the beer with him, but we have Mountain Dew, some orange juice that I think is still good…oh, here it is!” He rummages through the top shelf and pulls out the last can of Diet Coke, the one he’d shoved towards the back so no one drank it before you could.

You shoot him a grateful smile that he returns easily. He plucks two mugs off of the wall, both of them gag gifts he’d given to his uncle, pouring Mountain Dew in one with Ask Me About My Nuts spelled out in bolts and screws and your soda in one with a three-dimensional pair of breasts jutting out from the body.

“I ran out of, like, nice cups,” he says sheepishly, likely referring to any container that didn’t allude to body parts. “Is this okay?”

“Perfect.”

Eddie sets the drinks down on the snack table, careful not to spill on your notebook. “Okay, pretty girl. C’mere.” He places a throw pillow on his lap and pats it, signaling that it’s time for you to assume the prime cuddling position.

As soon as you rest your head, his hand finds its home on your upper arm. His thumb, calloused but gentle, makes gentle strokes that have both of your hearts beating slowly and in sync.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

You roll over so you can see the stubble that’s starting to prickle along his cheeks, jawline, and under his chin. “You forgot about the movie. And the snacks.”

He groans, using his free palm to rub his nose in frustration. It’s one of the cutest habits he has, and part of you always wonders if he does it just to make you smile.

“‘M too comfy to move,” he grumbles, peering down at you with a guilty expression.

“Me, too,” you agree. “But…snacks.”

Eddie chuckles, stretching to grab something from his side of the sofa. “We’ve got this,” he says as he procures a half-eaten can of vanilla frosting. “I swear I just opened it last night. And we can just talk until we fall asleep, like we did when we first started dating.”

The memory floods your body with warmth. Even before the two of you became a couple, when you and Eddie were only friends, you would often stay up on the phone until your consciousness gave way. No conversation topic was off-limits; on one night when he’d been more than a bit tipsy, he’d divulged some of his more…private preferences.

“So she spit in your mouth?”

“Mhm.”

“And you like that?”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely, Sweetheart.”

Neither of you know where tonight will take you. Maybe you’ll become a familiar tangle of limbs, trading sloppy kisses and murmured sweet nothings. Maybe the sugar from the frosting will rejuvenate one of you enough to actually put the VHS in the player. Maybe you’ll just soak in each other’s softness, letting comfort envelop you until your eyelids become too heavy to keep up.

Wherever you go, you and Eddie will get there together.

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff

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kivino · 5 months

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I DON’T CARE WHAT’S IN YOUR HAIR || ROOMMATE!JOHN ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH X GN!READER

Word Counter – 1.9k

Tags/Warnings – Some friendly banter, can be read as both platonic and romantic, fluff!

Summary – Your roommate Johnny comes back after his deployment and his hair looks like it needs a little trimming.

A/n – I AM ON MY ROOMMATE!SOAP AGENDA AND I WILL SPREAD IT FAR AND WIDE. let me know if you guys would like to see more roommate!Soap things on my blog, i'm very interested in different opinions!!!

ao3 link!!

Soap couldn’t wait until he was finally back home – several months had passed since his last leave and he was getting restless and antsy without the very much-needed rest. And, well, your company, which he missed more and more each day. You’d constantly be on his mind, plaguing his every thought with your presence, from a rather simple, passing “Oh, they’d like this joke” inside his head to talking the ears off of anyone who’d listen to him ramble about his lovely roommate, who he affectionately called “my dumbass back home”. Slowly, but surely, the number of people willing to lend an ear to restless Johnny became less and less, with each day of him staying on the base. So really, it was more of a favor extended to all the resident soldiers there.

Soap could almost feel the buzz of excitement itching under his skin, the commute back to your shared apartment was really long and tiring; the huge duffel bag filled to the brim with dirty laundry and a variety of clothes he shoved inside in a hurry didn’t help with the soreness in his body either. Soap, thankfully, didn’t forget to tell you earlier this week that his leave got approved, which you didn’t seem too excited about over the text, but he knew that you were screaming and jumping from joy. Maybe.

The last time he forgot to do that ahead of time he came back to an absolute disaster inside the apartment, with you trying to cook dinner while doing laundry, vacuuming, and cussing him out for not telling you earlier. Truth be told, Johnny didn’t mind if the apartment was messy, with undone dishes and whatnot, he’d help you do everything, but you were fixed on the fact that you should do it yourself and it’s absolutely crucial that everything has to be perfect by the time he’s back. Ghost joked that you had some military spouse mentality when Soap mentioned it to him (among countless other times he’d tell the big guy about you). Maybe there was some truth to this joke. Just maybe.

Regardless, Johnny could feel the bounce in his step and the same lightness in his chest when he was finally within a short walking distance of the apartment, and he just simply couldn’t wait to see you, even if you were a bit tired after all the cleaning you’d have to do in the apartment to keep up this image of a “perfect roommate”, despite being to him much more than just that. Seconds drag out unbearably long when he’s going up the steep stairs in the building that have certainly seen better times than the 21st century, and Soap thinks he could combust when he has to rummage through his pockets for the keys he hasn’t used in months. Johnny could hear the vacuum moaning from exertion from his place outside the door and an unintentional smile grazes his lips when he hears you cursing something out in your native language. Johnny finally fishes the key out of his pocket, hurriedly unlocks the door, and goes inside, as quietly as he can, which you can still hear even over the sound of a working vacuum.

“Johnny, you ass, you’re finally back.” You’re immediately distracted from the home appliance, as you turn it off and focus your attention solely on Soap, running up to him across the room and helping him with the giant duffel bag. “Thought you died out there with long they held up your leave.” You mumble with a chuckle that turns into a rough shriek, courtesy of Johnny squeezing the life out of you with a tight and warm embrace.

“Aye, there we go, bonnie, let’s hug it out!” If you could hear over his loud booming voice you were sure you’d hear your bones snapping from how tight his arms wrapped around your torso. You’d probably hug him back if you could free your arms out of Johnny’s hug too, but that didn’t seem to be an option at the moment.

“Johnny, for fuck’s sake, you stink!” You only hear a hearty laugh in response to your dramatic delivery. You tried to seem annoyed with Soap, which was a bit harder than you initially thought. You kind of missed him, the apartment felt cold and empty without his chatter.

“And that’s how you treat me after we haven’t seen each other for months? You wound me so deep.” The man says in a mock-sad tone. Deep inside of him, he felt that – you’re not being serious and just messing with him. So, he only continued squeezing you in his arms, without much thought. “When did you shower last time anyway?” you ask with a light groan. “Not in the past 24 hours, I’ll tell ya that.” Johnny’s chest rumbles with a low laugh and you can feel those vibrations going right through you, from how close you were.

“Oh, fuck off. And what’s with the hair? Decided to take some fashion advice from those edgy lads down the road?” You finally look up at Soap and he looks…Interesting to say the least. It’s obvious that someone probably helped him trim down the sides, since they didn’t appear much longer than they were several months ago when he left last. The longer part of the mohawk, however, made him look like he decided to go full mullet, with parts of his hair cut in certain places, like there was an attempt to make it shorter. It wasn’t bad-looking by any stretch of the imagination (in fact, you were sure, that Johnny can make look good just about anything if he managed to pull off the fucking mohawk in the first place), but you had to take the piss at him while you had the chance.

“Everyone’s a critic. Help me cut it then, will ya?” The man asks, slightly loosening his iron grip on you to look you in the eyes with an infectious smile.

“Only after you wash.”

“Naturally.”

And that’s how you find yourself in the cramped, tight bathroom of your apartment, Johnny sitting in front of the mirror on a stool, back hunched over the sink and you standing right behind him, with a pair of scissors and a clear goal in mind – sort out whatever mess was on his head. If it was up to you, you’d find a person who decided to make Johnny the next victim of their questionable fashion choices and cut off their fingers so they can never hold anything that can cut hair in their hands again. But for now, you just have to figure out what to do with Soap.

“You look like a feral rat on steroids, Johnny,” You say, as your fingers slowly drift through the longer, very grown-out parts of his mohawk. You look at his reflection in the mirror and your eyes meet, despite the weird angle his head was positioned at, just to rest on your stomach. Soap gives you a lopsided smile and closes his eyes with a relaxed sigh. That bath must’ve been good, you scrubbed the shit out of the bathroom yesterday.

“Well, somebody’s gotta be the pretty one outta the pair of us.” If you were meaner than you already are you’d yank his hair to teach his ass a lesson. But you don’t. And he knows you wouldn’t do that, which is why you can see one barely open blue eye staring back at you from the mirror. He’s such a pain in the ass, but you love him. The world will collapse the day you actually acknowledge that though.

“You’re butt-ugly.” You mumble instead, playing with the damp strands of hair that refused to stand up the way they did before his deployment. You didn’t know much about the military dress code but you’d be surprised if he wasn’t violating any regulations with how his hair looked.

“Yer mum would disagree.” Johnny gave another hearty laugh and leaned more into you with his back. It really felt great to be back home. He could’ve still lived with his parents and sisters back on that farm, but as much as he loved them, relatives were too much sometimes. Maybe he should visit them soon with you. That’d be great. Johnny just has to explain beforehand that you’re only roommates, so it doesn’t turn into a big mess, that he’d hate to sort out.

“You don’t even know my mum, you wanker.” You slap Johnny on the shoulder lightly and he doesn’t even flinch. “Come on, straighten up.” He reluctantly obeys and gets up from his unusual resting position, you hear no verbal protests from him. With a light, gentle motion your hand ruffles his hair in approval.

“I’m sure she’s a woman of refined taste.” This earns Soap another slap to the shoulder, to which he laughs like a damn schoolboy. Your eyes are glued to his hair, studying it carefully. You didn’t have much experience even trimming it on somebody else, so this was a bit nerve-wracking – you didn’t want to mess up and make Johnny look worse. Although not a lot of things could look genuinely bad on the man, you were willing to admit that. You finally take the scissors that have been sitting on the edge of the sink for the past half hour and pinch the longer stand that fell over Johnny's eyes between your index and middle fingers. “Well, what are you waiting for? Cut it.” He tries to hurry you, and you can’t even see the way he observes your expression - brows tied together in a thoughtful frown, Johnny thought it looked quite cute.

“Shut up, I’m thinking.” Your eyes rise to the mirror again and he playfully rolls his eyes. He doesn’t say anything though, letting you take your time, as you put down the scissors. You start ruffling Johnny’s hair again and you see the way he closes his eyes in the reflection, a warm smile stretching his lips. Your hand rests on the side of his face for a moment and not even a second passes, before you feel Soap’s palm rest over it in a gentle motion. But it doesn’t end on it, when he rubs his cheek over your skin, his stubble scratching you slightly. You let him have this moment though.

You look at his hair, as you ruffle and play with it using your free hand, and your realization makes you want to bash your head on the wall. You like it better like this. This is stupid and you feel like an idiot. At least you had an idea on how you can tell Johnny that you changed your mind about cutting his hair. Your fingers dive into his hair again, scratching the scalp lightly with the nails as you give your final verdict, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“I don’t think I can make it any worse than it already is, to be honest. Somebody fucked you over real good with that one.” You lie right to his face. Johnny opens his eyes and gives you a mischievous smile when he hears that.

“So, what I hear is you’re chickening out?’ He asks with a light, airy laugh that makes even the cold bathroom feel warmer.

“Johnny, get out of here before I shave you bald”

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odyssean-flower · 30 days

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The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 12 first part

honestly im not even gonna say when the chapter is gonna be ready anymore...it'll be done when it's done...

anyways here's the first part. It's unbetaed but hopefully it compels/entertains you in some way as I finish the chapter up

“My dear Iudex, are my eyes deceiving me, or is that a smile on your face?”

Neuvillette raised his gaze from the documents spread out before him. Furina was standing on the other side of his desk. Of course, he had heard her enter his office before she even spoke, but he was so used to her unannounced intrusions these days that he treated it as a part of his daily routine now. I only hope that she makes this quick. I have a rather heavy agenda today, and I would like to return home before dark.

Furina leaned over his desk, her heterochromatic eyes eagerly scanning the desk for some sort of incriminating evidence to grab onto. Of course, she found none. Neuvillette wasn’t so foolish that he would make such a careless mistake.

“Hmph, I didn’t know that paperwork could inspire such a joyous expression on one’s face. What a contrast you make with the Gestionnaires outside your door! You really must get out more.”

“Indeed, I have, thanks to your urging. I believe you’ve already read the note I left you.”

“Ah, yes, that sorry excuse for a note,” Furina sniffed. “‘Will be away for a day due to personal reasons.’ No mention of where you’re going or who you’ll be with.”

“I see no reason why I should have included either of those things. I followed all the necessary protocol for requesting leave, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Oh, I am. But Neuvillette, aren’t you getting tired of constantly having to avoid my questions and fend me off every single day? You know exactly what I want, why won’t you give it to me? Are you truly intending to keep doing this forever?”

“And you know very well that I will not change my position on this matter. There is no need for you to get involved in my marriage, nor do you have the right.”

Furina and Neuvillette glared at each other silently for a while. Throughout this week, she had constantly needled, badgered, and pestered him in an attempt to fish for any information about his day off, but he remained an immovable stone wall. He knew that revealing anything to her would only pour fuel on the fire, so to speak. Knowing her nature, he doubted she would let this go any time soon, but he could at least not give her any openings to pounce onto.

“No right to get involved in your marriage, huh,” Furina repeated, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t forget that you have me to thank for it. Would you have ever even considered marrying this woman if it weren’t for me?”

Neuvillette did not say anything. They both knew the answer to that question.

“Even so, I do not owe you anything,” he said with a firm tone that signaled the end of their talk. “Now then, Furina, allow me to get back to my work.”

“Fine,” Furina said with a toss of her head. “It looks like I’ll be visiting you again tomorrow.”

“Please do so during my coffee break.”

Furina spun on her heel and was about to stride away when she suddenly turned around again. “You know, Neuvillette, I just don’t understand why you won’t let me meet the person who clearly brought you so much joy.”

Neuvillette narrowed his eyes at her. “I believe we were done here?”

Furina put her hand to her heart and made an expression of exaggerated joy. “How heartless! I do hope your wife never sees this side of you.”

He watched her until she left his office and the doors closed behind her. Letting out a heavy sigh, his gaze drifted to the misty painting hanging at the side of his office, almost by instinct. This was also something that had also become a daily routine for him.

He wondered what the painter was doing now. Around this time, you were sure to be in the garden, devoting all your attention to the sunflowers.

Were you waiting for him to come home? He hoped you weren’t. It looked like he would be returning late today. Well, to be honest, he usually returned home late at night, but now with you as his wife, it would be terribly uncouth of him as your husband to come home too late. In addition, he found that his willingness to work into the late hours had decreased considerably. Still, there were times when he truly had no other choice.

But, there was a small part of him that would very much like it if you did wait for him.

Neuvillette did not know what to make of this new development in his feelings. He examined it, turning it over in his head as one would do with a particularly interesting-looking rock or seashell, then put it away for later. He needed to concentrate on getting through the stack of paperwork on his desk if he wanted to leave work earlier.

But before that…

His hand moved to his desk drawer, which contained a recently-delivered envelope. It was a stroke of good fortune that it had been delivered before Furina’s visit. He’d never hear the end of that if she saw its contents.

He opened the envelope and took out a stack of newly-developed photos. He flipped through them until he reached the photo of a young woman standing stiffly in front of an azure-blue willow tree. His finger idly stroked the edge of the picture. The colors were so vivid and crisp that he felt as though he could reach into the photo and touch the ribbon of your hat or the soft fabric of your sleeve.

It was strange. You were not a particularly cheerful or spirited person, but when he was with you, his heart felt lighter, freer. Not to the extent of forgetting himself or his responsibilities, of course, but… Was this what Furina meant by the “joys of matrimony”?

He couldn’t say he disliked it.

He carefully put the photos back in the envelope. What sort of face would you make when he showed them to you? Or when he showed you the other surprise he had for you? Would you smile at him once again? Would you take his hand in yours? A feeling of anticipation filled his heart. Unconsciously, his fingers brushed against his cheek.

The sunflowers were coming along nicely. They now reached the height of your hip and formed small, tightly closed buds. There were no yellow petals peeking through yet, but you were confident that they would appear in the coming weeks.

You brushed your fingers against the leaves. They were the size of your palm now. You could see little bug bites dotting them. Perhaps you should ask Marie if there were any pesticides on hand.

It was evening now, though the sun was still in the sky. Neuvillette should be back by now. Maybe he had a lot of work today? You couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment. You had been looking forward to showing him the buds. Was Furina pestering him again?

It had been a week since the date. Neuvillette had sent the photos out to be developed, and you would be getting them today. You were a bit excited to see them. I don’t think I’ve ever taken so many pictures in my life.

After you finished taking the last measurements, you returned to the house and went up to your room. Your eyes automatically went to the plump azure flower tucked into a vase on your desk. It brought a vibrant splash of color to your elegant but sparse room, and you liked looking at it. It gave you a sense of pleasure. You wondered where Neuvillette put his flower.

I wonder if it will deflate like a balloon if I stuck a pin into the middle, you thought as you sniffed the flower’s cool fragrance. That would make it easier to press, wouldn’t it?

Perhaps it was because you talked about pressing flowers on the date, but it had been on your mind lately. Your fingers itched for your old flower press, sitting in your closet back home. The lily would look striking against a white page. If only you picked some of those wildflowers you had seen on Erinnyes and in Merusea Village... they could serve as accompaniment to the lily, which would obviously be the centerpiece, and a strand of blue leaves from the Weeping Willow could be the finishing touch, forming a wreath that framed everything neatly. It would be a beautiful memento of one of the most beautiful days in your life.

It was strange. Even though your days went on like usual after the date, you felt a little different. A little lighter. Reinvigorated, if you had to describe it in a single word. Your childhood hobbies, which you once considered frivolous and backwards, beckoned to you once more.

For a long time now, you felt like you were barely holding yourself up by the sheer force of will, like a sunflower with shallow roots and a too-heavy head, in need of a support to stand tall and erect. Well, now you did have one.

I guess this is what marriage all about. Two people supporting each other for life. Although, it is rather one-sided in our case.

You bit your lip. It was irrational, you knew. Neuvillette was the powerful and respected Iudex, while you were an impoverished baron’s daughter from the countryside. Your presence in his house was proof of just how much more you relied on him than the other way around. You knew that Neuvillette didn’t expect anything from you, which only made you even more determined to do something for him.

You despised the feeling of owing someone. You hated having to completely depend on someone. That was one of the many reasons why you chose your career path.

But more than that…

Neuvillette’s distraught face flashed through your mind. Though you only saw it once, you never wanted to see that look on his face again.

Neuvillette finally returned home by the time the sky was dark. You had already eaten dinner without him and was reading in the parlor when you heard the front door open.

“Neuvillette,” you called out to him as you went into the foyer. “You came home so late. Did something happen?”

As you approached him, you thought that he looked a bit fatigued, but the tiredness in his face seemed to vanish as he fixed his eyes on you.

“Madame,” he greeted you. “My apologies for worrying you. I had a rather busy agenda today. I hope you’ve already eaten dinner?”

“I have. But have you eaten as well? If not, I can warm up the leftovers for you, or I can ask Marie to cook something fresh if that’s what you prefer.”

“No need for that. I’ve already eaten. But there is something else I want to talk about,” Neuvillette paused. It took you a moment to realize that he was doing it for dramatic effect. So even he has that side to him...how cute, you thought, trying to hide your smile. “I was able to receive the developed photos today.”

He took out an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to you. “They turned out quite well, I must say,” he added.

The envelope was thick and heavy. You must have taken more than a hundred photos.

You decided to look through them in the parlor. Neuvillette followed you, and the two of you sat side by side on the couch as you spread the photos out on the coffee table. Neuvillette was right, they did turn out well. You had been a bit worried that they might come out blurry or at odd angles, but overall, they all looked pretty good, considering the fact that you hadn’t used a Kamera in a long time.

“You have a very good eye for photography, Madame,” Neuvillette remarked as he picked up a photo of the Weeping Willow. “Have you considered pursuing a career in that field?”

“Oh, not at all. My old drawing teacher was much better at it than me, enough to make a living out of it, and she taught me a few tricks.”

“‘Was’? Do you mean...” Neuvillette trailed off.

“Yes. It was a few years ago.”

“Ah...I see. I'm sorry to hear that.”

There was a brief, awkward silence. Neuvillette looked as though he wanted to say something more. You would rather not deal with that, so your eyes roamed around the scattered photos on the table before they landed on something silver. “Oh, my pictures of you!” you said, leaning forward to grab them. “See, what did I tell you, Neuvillette. There’s nothing more picturesque than beautiful scenery and a handsome man.”

Neuvillette leaned closer towards you to examine the photos for himself. His hair brushed against your shoulder, and you could feel the heat of his body against your arm. A thought suddenly struck you. If you turned your head right now, your lips would brush against his cheek in the same spot where you had kissed it before.

Inexplicably, your face turned warm at the thought. The back of your hand tingled.

Perhaps things didn’t quite remain the same after the date.

It truly had been a spur of the moment move. Your roiling emotions, aided by the instigation of the Melusines, had pushed you to do it.

Later that night, as you laid in bed, your mind replaying that scene over and over to an infuriating degree, you had rifled through all the emotions you had felt at that time. Embarrassment, disbelief, a strange sort of elation…

But the one emotion that had been missing no matter how hard you searched for it, was regret.

Overt acts of affection had never been your forte, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Well, cheek kisses don’t inherently mean anything significant, you had told yourself. Friends do it with each other all the time. And Neuvillette is my friend. A very dear friend. So it’s perfectly fine. Case closed.

Indeed, Neuvillette didn’t seem to look at you or treat you any differently after the fact, so why should you? No doubt he was used to receiving such acts of intimacy—most likely even more intimate—from people who were far more glamorous than you. A brief brush of lips against his cheek probably meant nothing to him.

As for the hand kiss, well, that was something that gentlemen like him did. It also didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.

The thought that these kisses were all meaningless did sting a little bit, but considering the circumstances, you had no right to complain.

“I must confess that I do not see what makes these pictures any better than the ones you took of the scenery,” Neuvillette’s voice interrupted your thoughts. His eyes were fixed on the photo, so thankfully he didn’t notice your reddened cheeks. “Or of the Melusines, for that matter.”

“Well, even if you don’t appreciate them, I do. I’ll treat them like a family treasure.”

“A family treasure? That’s a bit excessive, is it not?”

“I don’t think so. These are pretty rare items, aren’t they?”

Since Neuvillette didn’t appear in public much, there were not many pictures of him outside of the rare interview and official events. Hmm, I wonder how much they’ll sell for? Not that I would ever do that, of course. …Well, maybe if I’m in dire financial straits. I’ll ask for Neuvillette’s permission beforehand if it ever comes to that.

You went through the remaining photos. Each one sparked a memory. The Weeping Willow, the sea, Merusea Village underwater—you really had been to all of those places. With Neuvillette, no less. The entirety of that day was only known to the two of you.

The days after your date had been so mundane and normal that you were half-convinced that it had all been a strange dream. Thoughts and memories were such mutable things, after all. Someone like you on a date with the Chief Justice? Not even in your wildest delusions would something like that ever happen. But these pictures were proof that it did.

You knew that you would probably think back on that day for the rest of your life, holding it close to your chest like a treasured gemstone and taking it out whenever times got tough. A sparkling memory of your youth that you would smile back fondly upon in your autumn years, a lone glimmering star in the dark that would inspire you move forward…

Wait, why am I getting so sappy and sentimental? Just because of a date? Ugh, come on now.

You glanced at Neuvillette, who was currently enjoying a glass of water (imported from Inazuma). You doubted that he felt the same way as you about the date. It was probably just like a drop of water in a vast ocean to him.

That thought pricked at you, but you chose to ignore it.

You sifted through the pictures until you came across a certain snapshot. Just as you were about to flip it over, a gloved finger pressed down against the photo, stopping you.

“This one is my favorite,” Neuvillette said. Once again, his face was right next to yours, but you couldn’t read his expression.

“Because you were the one who took it?”

“No,” he said, then turned his head towards you. “Because it’s of you.”

“Neuvillette…” you said after a short silence. You fidgeted with your reddened fingertips. “I don’t understand how you can say things like that with such a straight face.”

“Is it truly so strange?” Neuvillette looked perplexed. “I was simply saying my true feelings. And it is not as though you have refrained from such comments either.”

“You do have a point,” you conceded, although that still didn’t mean it didn’t catch you off guard. You turned your attention back to the photo of you. To be honest, it didn’t turn out half bad. Sure, you looked incredibly stiff and awkward and your hair was a mess and you had no idea what you were thinking when you matched that sweater with that skirt, but…it could have turned out worse.

“May I keep this photo?” Neuvillette asked.

“Of course, but what will you do with it? Surely you aren’t going to put it on your office desk or anything, right?”

“No, of course not. I would put it in a drawer, so I may take it out and look at it whenever I like.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Is it so wrong for a husband to want to look at a picture of his wife every once in a while? Many of the Palais staff also keep pictures of their loved ones on their desks. Why shouldn’t I?” Neuvillette paused for a little bit before adding, “And it would be one way for me to see your face more often, considering how I don’t get many chances of that during the day.”

“Hmm…very well, then,” you didn’t quite get why he would want to see more of your face, but if it made him happy, then you supposed there was nothing to complain about. Neuvillette is actually quite good at this kind of thing, you thought to yourself. Just imagine what it would be like when he gets married to someone he loves.

Now you really felt bad about your (hypothetical) future plans about selling Neuvillette’s photos. I’m an insensitive boor compared to him.

You reached the last of the photos. It was the one of you and Neuvillette standing in front of the sunset.

“You made two copies for the both of us,” you said as you looked at them. “How thoughtful.”

As you gazed at the pictures, you couldn’t help but feel a complex mixture of emotions. There was a surrealness to this photo that the others lacked. If this were a novel, this would be the point where you would wake up and return to reality after discovering something out of place in your life. No matter how you looked at it, you and Neuvillette were mismatched. Two people who were only brought together because of a weird quirk of fate.

But on the other hand…it was a beautiful photo. You had been somewhat worried that the two of you wouldn’t be centered in the frame, but it turned out well. The sunset made for a lovely backdrop. Even though both of you were looking very stiff, and neither of you were smiling.

You remembered that moment clearly. In those few minutes, you felt as light as a feather, like there was nothing tying you to the ground.

Would you ever feel that way again?

“I’m also very fond of this one,” Neuvillette said next to you. When you turned your head, you saw that he was not looking at the photos, but at you. It was then that you realized you were smiling. For some reason, you turned your head away.

“I just realized something,” you said, to cover up the awkward moment. “I’ve taken so many pictures, but I’ve got nowhere to put them all.”

“Ah, about that,” there was an excitement, subdued but present, in his voice. He sounded the same as he did when he introduced you to some new exotic variety of water. “I have a surprise for you. Please, come with me to my study.”

A surprise from Neuvillette? You had an inkling as to what it could be, but that didn’t stop you from putting all the photos back in the envelope and following him upstairs to his study, a domain you had yet to step into. It was a smaller version of his office at the Palais Mermonia, with its large desk, soft rugs, and tall bookshelves that lined the walls. There was also a fireplace here and a cozy-looking couch.

As Neuvillette went to take something out of a cabinet, you covertly examined the shelves. They were mainly filled with books on law, human psychology, history (most of which you’ve already read, having borrowed them from the library), and other similarly serious topics. Oddly enough, you spotted a few children’s picture books. Gifts from the Melusines? Or for entertaining them whenever they visit?

“Madame, here it is,” Neuvillette said, and you walked over to the desk, where there was a large, leather-bound album with metal corners.

“Oh, Neuvillette, you shouldn’t have!” you exclaimed, flipping through the album. There should be just enough space to put all the pictures from your date in it. You looked up to thank him, but was met with the sight of Neuvillette taking out yet another album from the cabinet. This one was wider, with a ribbon tied into a neat bow on the spine. Perhaps Neuvillette bought a second album, just in case the first one wouldn’t fit all of your pictures?

But, as though to dash all reasonable explanations, Neuvillette took out another album from the cabinet, then another. It seemed never-ending, this deluge of albums. After a while, it became sort of funny, like a comedy sketch. You watched, open-mouthed, as the desk became covered with albums of all shapes and sizes.

Finally, after the tenth one, the deluge stopped. Neuvillette looked at you expectantly. “Well, Madame, which one do you prefer?”

“Wait a minute, let me get this right,” you said, backing up a step and surveying the desk. “You bought all these albums just for me to choose one?”

“Yes, I did,” Neuvillette said, nodding as though this was a perfectly normal thing to do. Was this how the minds of the wealthy worked? It was beyond your comprehension. “I was unsure which one would be most to your liking, so I decided to buy them all.”

“Oh, Neuvillette, you really shouldn’t have…” you said. “This is too excessive. Why didn’t you ask me to come with you when you went shopping? And you know I’d like anything you picked out for me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise…” Neuvillette said. He looked a bit deflated, and you felt bad.

“Can you return them?”

“It would be highly inconvenient for the shopkeeper if I did so,” Neuvillette said, then added in an abashed tone, “And I was told that all sales are final.”

“How unfortunate,” you looked down at the desk again. Was it possible for anyone to fill up all these albums in their lifetime? Maybe if they had a lifespan as long as Neuvillette’s. “Maybe they could make an exception for the Iudex?”

“I would rather not use my position in such a manner.”

“Well then, how about we give them away?”

“Give them away…” Neuvillette considered your words. “I-I suppose that could work… it is a reasonable idea. Yes, quite reasonable indeed.”

Neuvillette…if only you could see the look on your face right now. He looked like a kicked puppy. However, you decided to hold your tongue.

“Hmm, on second thought, it would be quite rude of me to give away presents from my generous husband,” you said. “I’ll keep them all. Thank you, Neuvillette.”

You patted his hand. He looked down at your hand on top of his, his eyes unreadable. He lightly brushed his fingers against your own.

“You need not force yourself to accept them if you do not want them,” he said quietly.

“But I do want them. They’re from you, after all. We’ll just have to take plenty more photos to get your money’s worth.”

“‘We?’”

“Yes, ‘we.’ Did you expect me to fill up these albums all on my own?”

“Certainly, it would be more efficient if we worked together,” Neuvillette nodded to himself. “Very well, then, Madame. I will assist you in this endeavour.”

With that settled, you decided to put the date photos in the first brown leather album. It had a vintage look to it that you liked.

“It’s getting late, Madame. You should be going to bed soon,” Neuvillette informed you.

“What about you?” Neuvillette didn’t seem to be making any moves to retire for the night just yet.

“There are a few more matters that I need to take care of, but do not worry, it won’t take very long.”

“Okay then,” you nodded, stepping towards the door. But just as you were about to leave the study, a thought suddenly struck you. “Oh, by the way, Neuvillette.”

“Yes, Madame?”

“Has Lady Furina been bothering you about…about me lately?”

Neuvillette blinked. He was silent for a moment before speaking. “She has. But it’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m quite used to handling her.”

“But…”

“There is no need to worry, Madame. She will never need to know about you,” Neuvillette’s tone was firm. “I will do my utmost to make sure it stays that way.”

“…Alright,” you said, but it wasn’t relief that flooded your heart. “Good night, Neuvillette.”

“Good night, Madame.”

You closed the study door quietly behind you.

#neuvillette x reader #the winding path of fate

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merakiui · 2 months

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So far tmdg, dru, and 3m3s is where the heat is at 🔥 🔥 I love u for doing another series >< ♡♡♡♡

Regarding dru,,, I'm vv gladd that u are FINALLY publishing another chapter raaaa !! Can't wait...

The amount of anon messages I've sent about these sea boys agh... I became an absolute monster for the octavinelle trio and I believe that the reason is you, mera!!!!

- 🤘

(ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟthank you!!!! I'm very excited to work on another series! Many fun things are planned for 3M:3S!!! I can't wait to write fight scenes and the silly interactions between Azul and Reader. >w< and the ADeuce + Grim and Reader friendship!!!!!!! They are a package deal. Do not separate. Most of all, I'm looking forward to writing lots of silly moments. I'm putting my entire funny bone into this plot. :D

AAAAAA OTL after so long, I am back to writing DRU. I didn't realize just how long it's been since the last chapter was posted. ;;;;;; luckily, after I finished 3M:3S's first chapter, I was immediately overcome with the sk!Jade vision. I think the main reason I held off on writing it for so long was because I didn't know how to make Jade even more irredeemably GROSS. So vile and evil and very bad murder eel. I think the chapter will be slightly longer than the usual chapter length, so I hope it's okay. orz

The sea boys have all of us in a chokehold. T^T we are forever trapped! I'm happy to spread Octavinelle agenda hehe. The gospel of fish must be spoken about.

#twisted chit chat #🤘 anon #me to jade in this next chapter: so how many problems are you going to cause?#jade: yes. :)

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garoujo · 1 year

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MY FINAL MESSAGE TO MY TUMBLR HARASSER :

hi ! as you guys have probably seen on dash, in tags, in your inbox there is an anon + a blog @/ffflowers going out of their way to not only spread lies but also to completely try everything in their power to harass and ‘expose’ me.

if you’ve had them in your asks or seen their posts you would’ve seen a link to a callout post from 2021 regarding a conversation that took place on an old blog of mine. their agenda with this callout post is to ‘prove’ that i apparently ignored this completely and got ‘run off’ tumblr without taking any sort of accountability for what was said or making any sort of apology.

this is not true, back in 2021 i took and still take full accountability for what i said and have never denied it, i made 3/4 separate apologies at that time, one of which was my pinned post for around a week and have continued to grow and do better as a writer and as a person since.

this particular discourse was resolved at that time, i never avoided confrontation and admitted i was in the wrong because i was, i was caught off guard and panicked with a topic that i felt intimidated by — i apologise and take accountability for my own ignorance.

while on the subject of this discourse post, i’d just like to prove my statement in this post where i said this particular situation was not what drove me to leave tumblr temporarily— this can be proven by these screenshots. as you can see, the callout post was dated on the 8th of June 2021.

like i said again in my previous post about this, this did not drive me off of tumblr — i owned up to everything i said, even went back to tag every post regarding the discourse so people could read through and make their own opinion — i did not run from this. i continued to write on this blog for months after this discourse which can be proven by the literal date in which it says my blog deactivated at the top — 20th of October 2021. almost 5 months after the callout post. either i’m a slow runner or my statement is correct. again, this was 2 years ago and this person has harassed me ever since.

but while i’m on the topic, the reason i actually left that blog was due to the anon who is continuing to harass me now. i received consistent and constant death threats by the same anon for months, following the same pattern — when i stopped posting their asks, they then decided to try a different approach. they began to force themselves into other peoples safe spaces to tell them they “couldn’t write certain characters because i selfshipped with them and they belonged to me” before going on to send those creators hate and death threats under the guise that i sent them — also not true.

i left tumblr for my own safety, this anon has my private and personal details, my social media and my face reveals but i refuse to let them ruin my safe space for me again. they’ve began to add more to their stories with sudden plagiarism and ‘black fishing’ being suddenly mentioned into their posts which is again absolutely not true, my guess is their current posts weren’t getting as much attention as they expected and they had to make it a little more eye catching.

they’ve also been consistently sending me anon asks hoping to bring relevance to the situation by urging me to post about it, they will send me hate before deciding to try and pretend to be another, nicer anon urging me to ‘hear my side of the story’ or showering me in compliments about how they ‘need an explanation because they know i’m too nice for that’ again, it’s obvious it’s them since they go back to being horrible when they’re ignored, and quite frankly it’s terrifying the lengths they’ll go to harass and manipulate me.

this morning while i was at work i had received an anon urging me to do that exact thing, to talk about the discourse, they sent me consistent asks until i made my post talking about how i will no longer be mentioning it on dash, they then sent me another nastier ask immediately after before then going to post on their blog @/ffflowers almost immediately after that.

also this is part two of them harassing me here and the reason i left my last nsfw blog + them doing the exact same thing they’re doing now, they have a pattern — they will wait a few months before bringing themselves back into my inbox, when their hate asks to me are left unanswered then they play their way into other peoples inboxes hoping they will post + bring attention to the ‘discourse’ they are trying to spread. also another post i’ve made about this situation lastnight here.

they’ve become increasingly more angry and violent the longer they’ve been with me, i’ve been doxxed, threatened, consistently told to die and kms + had my character ripped to shreds on a site where i simply post writing for fun. i apologise to anyone who’s been dragged into this or harassed by this person, they are nasty and this probably won’t be the end of them either — but i refuse to let them drive me off of this app again.

i’ll be taking a small break for a few days to calm down, anon will remain off so they can’t contact me because at this moment i don’t feel safe and will be laying low on my personal acc for a while until i feel better. i apologise again for everything, the posts and my actions included, but i have no secrets.

emmie <3

RETURN TO NAVIGATION

#cw discourse #okay to rb

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sdr2lovemail · 2 years

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hello !! first may i say i love your blog, it feels so cool but cozy at the same time ??? anyways may i rq wuchang with a child!reader that they take care of??? i must spread the dad wuchang agenda

Thank you for the compliment Anon! I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you enjoy reading it!

[Platonic, Gender Neutral Reader]

Woah Reader, the Baron lets you have two dads?

The dim light of a clouded early morning shines through the sheer curtains of your room. Today, just as every other day, a gentle knock against the worn wooden door could be heard. The soft click of the knob turning soon follows.

Entering the small room is Bi’an, carefully setting his umbrella against your bed, he lays a hand on your shoulder. “My child, it is time for you to rise. We have quite the day ahead of us.”

Fighting to stay in the warmth of your covers, you curl yourself deeper into your bed. Bi’an gives a light chuckle. “Don’t be like that. Ms. Grace had brought in some fish earlier this morning. Wujiu and I thought it would go great with some congee.” Though the promise of food was tempting, you still wouldn’t budge.

Shaking his head, Bi’an grabs his umbrella. “I guess Wujiu would have better luck in waking you up.” He opens the umbrella, ready to swap places with the Black Guard.

“Good morning, Mr. Bi’an. Wow, how long have you been there?” You yawn in feign sleepiness. Slipping from under your covers, you walk over to the window and open the thin curtains.

“Oh my, it seems that you have hurt poor Wujiu’s feelings. You dislike him waking you that much?” The White Guard cradles the umbrella close to his ear.

In a panic, you clamber over to the tall man and grab his jacket. “No! That’s not it at all! I’m sorry for being mean. It’s just that he likes to take my blankets when I don’t get up.”

“Aha, we merely jest, my child. Now,” Reaching into a wardrobe, he pulls out the same outfit you’ve worn every day. “Get dressed and we will head to the dining hall. Wujiu will be waiting outside.” Leaving the stack of clothes in a neat pile, he sets a loving hand on top of your head and steps out of the room soon after.

You’re quick to pull on your clothes and grab your weapon. Before leaving to meet up with the Black Guard, you grab a marker and scratch off another day from a calendar. Another day without your wish being granted. How many games must you play before you’re set free?

Leaving and shutting the door, you crane your neck to look up. “Good morning, Mr. Wujiu. Did you sleep well last night?”

With his free hand, Wujiu grabs your own and begins to walk down the long hallways. “We have been over this dear child, Bi’an and I do not need to rest. Though, how about you? Are you well-rested for the day?”

“Yeah, after that match yesterday I went to bed right away. You guys are lucky you don’t have to sleep.”

“I wouldn’t say that…”

The rest of the walk was filled with your mindless chatter and Wujiu listening to anything you had to say.

The dining hall was filled with your fellow hunters. Some are well energized and others are ready to fall asleep in their chair. You take your usual seat at the large table in front of Jack, the Ripper, while Wujiu prepares your breakfast.

“Hello, small one. Are you ready for a day of hunting?” Jack asks while he fiddles with an envelope.

Taking small sips of water, you look at his rarely unmasked face. “Good morning, Mr. Jack. Not really, but I don’t have much of a choice.”

Beside you, Michiko gives a small smile. “My, how honest children are these days.”

Without time to give the Geisha a greeting, Jack waves a slip of paper in your face. “Well, you will be sad to know that you were invited to a game.” He flips the envelope around to reveal your name written in beautiful cursive.

Letting out a sigh you reach for the slip. With your fingertips just gracing the envelope, Jack whips it back. He lazily uses it to fan his face.

“Not so fast. Before I give you this invitation, I have one question to ask.” He leans over the table. “Am I your favorite hunter?”

“Uh, well…Mr. Bi’an tells me I shouldn’t lie…”

Next to Jack, the Bloody Queen breaks out into laughter and covers the lower half of her face with her hand.

Jack’s face falls flat. “How honest indeed.” He tossed the envelope onto the table in front of you. “Just take it.” He sighs as he slips on his mask.

You take the envelope into your hands. As you’re peeling back the wax seal, a steaming bowl of rice porridge is set in front of you. It’s topped with fish and green onion.

“Here you are, dear child. Eat before it gets cold. You can read your letter after you’re done.” Wujiu says as he takes his seat next to you. Even when sitting he easily towers over many at the table.

With a pout, you glance over to the guard. “But I wanna see who I’m playing against.”

“It won’t matter whom you’re playing against if you have no energy. Now eat, and don’t forget to thank Ms. Grace for helping with breakfast.”

“Alright…” You mumble as you take a bite of your meal. The smooth rice goes down quite nicely. Coupled with the fish Naiad had caught, it made the perfect meal to start your day.

From across the table, Jack clicks his tongue. “You two spoil them, Wujiu. They’re practically grown at this point. Why coddle them at every moment?” He leans forward to rest his head in his non-clawed hand.

The guard sets his hand on your shoulder. “Oh hush, Mr. Ripper. We are merely nurturing the child as they had arrived here alone. This manor is no place for someone so young to be wandering about.”

You place your spoon into the empty bowl and wipe your mouth with a napkin. “Mr. Wujiu, I think Mr. Jack is right. I’m pretty much grown now. I don’t need help anymore.” You cross your arms in an attempt to look mature.

The umbrella sat in Wujiu’s lap glows as Bi’an tells him something. “Oh? Really, dear child? What about in duo hunters when Bi’an had to help you reach the phone?” He recalls. “Or perhaps the time that novelist told you a scary story and you had us checking under your bed for weeks? Or when-”

“Okay! That’s enough!” You interrupt. “I guess I do have more growing to do. But that’ll be in no time!”

Wujiu begins to stack your dishes. “You shouldn’t rush. Enjoy your youth while you can.” Picking up the stack of dishes, he stands up from his seat at the table. “How about you read your invitation while I stop by the kitchen. When I get back I’ll walk you to the waiting room.”

With long strides, the Black Guard walks through the dining hall. For a second he pauses. Looking at the large windows that surround the room, he could see the splattering of rain against the glass. Time seems to freeze. Wujiu closes his eyes for just a moment and takes a deep breath. Clearing his head, he continues to the kitchen.

Once Wujiu makes his return, and you say your goodbyes, hand in hand you begin your journey to the waiting room. The waiting area is in a building separated from the main manor. To reach it, you would have to walk through a courtyard.

“Bi’an will be waiting for you once you return from your match. Remember to stay alert for any survivors that may lurk nearby.” Wujiu states as the two of you come to a covered section of the courtyard. His voice trails off at the sound of rain fills his ears.

You notice him take a step back. The grip on your hand gets tighter. “I can go from here, Mr. Wujiu. I’ll be fast so I don’t get too wet.”

He takes a cautious step forward. “...No, I said I was going to walk you there. Come along now, dear child.” Taking small steps he gets closer and closer to the rain. As he cautiously sets a hand out to feel the droplets on his skin, a clap of thunder booms above you guys.

With a choked gasp, he steps back into the safety of the roof. He curls in on himself, causing him to let go of your hand.

“Mr. Wujiu? Are you okay?” You set a gentle hand on his shoulder. He flinched on contact.

“Ah, yes, I’m quite fine. I’m…I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be acting this way in front of you.”

You’re quick to grab his hand. “No! It’s okay to be scared. That’s what you and Mr. Bi’an always tell me. I’ll just have to be the one that makes you feel better.” You wrap your arms around his tall, lanky frame.

Wujiu gets down on one knee to be closer to your height. Softly, he returns the embrace. “Thank you, dear child.” He smiles, though it looks a bit strained. “Now, we should get you to your match. It would be terrible if you were late.”

“It’s okay, I can go on my own!” Your words caused Wujiu’s eyes to widen. “Even though you and Mr. Bi’an don’t tell me about it, I still know that you guys don’t like the rain. This will prove how grown up I am.”

Wujiu thinks for a second before giving a more sincere smile. Standing to his full height he pats you on the head. “Alright, make sure to get there fast. We wouldn’t want you to get a cold. Good luck out there.”

You beam back at him. “I’ll make sure to send them all back to the manor. Bye, Mr. Wujiu! Bye, Mr. Bi’an.”

The Black Guard watched as you quickly ran to the other building. Seeing you walk in, he lets out a sign and turns around. The umbrella in his grasp glows. “I know, Bi’an. We will tell them when they are older.” Wujiu makes his way into the manor to let Bi’an wait for your arrival.

The match didn’t take long. The White Guard was standing at the door to the courtyard, book in hand, waiting for you to return. The sound of the heavy door creaking open pulls him away from the pages. “Welcome back, my child. You look quite tired.”

He holds his book underneath one of his arms. Picking you up and setting you on his hip with one hand, he grabs his umbrella with the other. “Did you have a good match?” Bi’an walks down the halls to your room.

“Yeah, I got a win. I’m so sleepy, though. Chasing the survivors around really takes a lot out of me.” You mumble, resting your head on his shoulder.

The walk is silent. Entering your room, Bi’an sets his book and umbrella down. He rests you on your bed before walking to your wardrobe and picking out some comfortable clothes. Turning around he sees that you’ve already gotten under your covers. With a small chuckle, he sets the pile of clothes on your desk.

“Sleep well, my child.” Bi’an pulls the covers up on your body. He smoothes a hand over your head. As he tries to head for the door, he feels a small tug on his jacket sleeve.

“Can you stay with me, Mr. Bi’an? Just until I fall asleep.” You ask him in a sleep-ridden tone.

“Of course, I can.” You scoot over in your small bed to allow him space to lay. His long body doesn't sit very comfortably in the bed.

You rest your head on his bony chest. The second you make contact, you’re out like a light.

“One day,” Bi’an starts. “We will free you from this accursed manor. But for now, rest easy.”

#identity v x reader #wu chang x reader #idv x reader #fan wujiu x reader #xie bian x reader #platonic #identity v #idv #idv wu chang #self insert #x reader

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themuse-if · 3 months

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20 (or so) Questions with Faye Winters

Let's connect with the resident heartbreaker of the sophomore class! Is Faye really all pirouettes and pixie dust or is she hiding something dark under the surface?

Interviewer: Faye, thanks for delving deeper into this. Starting with your birthday – Pisces, right?

Faye: Yeah, that's correct. My birthday is March 2nd.

Interviewer: Any nicknames you go by?

Faye: Just Faye. It suits me. Wouldn't you agree? *leans in closer, resting her chin on her hand*

Interviewer: *starts to blush* Why, yes, I think it really does. Uh ok, anyway what are some of your good traits?

Faye: Well, I think that I'm a true free spirit. I love the way that contemporary dance makes me feel like my body can move and transform so fluidly. I think that I like bringing that side out in others as well breaking them out of their more structured shells to experience more of what life has to offer.

Interviewer: Interesting qualities indeed. And how about challenging traits?

Faye: I've been told that I'm too nice. I guess it's lead to a lot of misunderstanding. It's hard for me to set certain boundaries and just say no to people in general. I uh yeah...I guess that's all. *tucks hair behind ear*

Interviewer: Understandable. Any hobbies outside of your art?

Faye: When the weather is nice I go on weekly picnics with my friends. Once it gets cold outside I like to bake lots of little treats in the communal kitchen and host movie nights in the common room.

Interviewer: I bet your hallmates love that! You should think about becoming an RA. Ok, what would you say is your greatest strength?

Faye: I think that I'm really good at bringing people together. Whether it's to choreograph our next assignment or just a fun little hangout, I really try to stay engaged with my friends.

Interviewer: A beautiful way to connect with the world. And your biggest weakness?

Faye: I think that sometime I overcompensate with being really nice and super fun, because I'm scared. I'm scared that the main reason people like me is just how I look and my general persona. I try to just keep everyone around because I struggle to tell the difference between who's being fake and who's being genuine.

Interviewer: It can be tricky indeed. Describe yourself in one word.

Faye: Friendly.

Interviewer: How do you think others see you in one word?

Faye: Captivating.

Interviewer: Now onto fears. What’s your greatest fear?

Faye: I care a lot about what people think, more than I'm willing to admit. I think that if I could just focus more on the deeper connections that maybe I wouldn't spread myself so thin trying to be everyone's friend.

Interviewer: Finding real connections is hard, but super important. Top priorities at this point in your life?

Faye: Learning to say no so that I can protect myself and those who really care about me. Also, honing my skills in contemporary dance and sculpting – there's always room for growth.

Interviewer: Admirable goals. Family time – tell me more about yours.

Faye: Just an ordinary, loving family. They've always been supportive of my artistic pursuits, and I'm grateful for that.

Interviewer: It's wonderful to have a supportive foundation. Future goals – what's on your agenda?

Faye: Continuing to evolve as an artist, exploring more dance styles, traveling the world, and cultivating meaningful connections. I want depth in both my art and relationships.

Interviewer: Ambitious and heartfelt. How would you spend a rainy day?

Faye: Rainy days are perfect for dorm movie nights! I'll bake some desserts and make some warm drinks and then we can watch my favorite rainy day movie "Pride and Prejudice" the one with Keira Knightley of course.

Interviewer: Lovely. Favorite book?

Faye: "The Night Circus" by Erin Morgenstern. It's enchanting and I'm a sucker for romance.

Interviewer: And your favorite movie?

Faye: "Big Fish" and "Moulin Rouge." Yes both films star Ewan McGregor, and no I don't have a thing for him he's just a good actor. Anyways, both films are visually alluring with great storytelling, and the music in "Moulin Rouge" is fantastic.

Interviewer: Perfect choices. Any dark secrets?

Faye: To be completely honest I was bullied a lot as a kid. Once I hit high school and puberty kicked in some people started to like me romantically mostly. Lots of people accused me of stealing there partner, or I had my partners accuse me of cheating. The thing is that I've never cheated, heck I'm not even that much of a flirt. I just know that people can flip on you in a matter of seconds if you don't fit what they want, and it's really hard to navigate that kind of social landscape.

Interviewer: Woah, that was a lot. I'm sorry that you've had to deal with all of that. With time I'm sure you'll make some really great friends. On a lighter note, what would you say is your best feature?

Faye: I like my hair, I found a stylist in the city who knows how to cut my bangs just right.

Interviewer: And your least favorite physical feature?

Faye: I think my neck is too long. But that's not really a big deal I don't think about it that much.

Interviewer: Lastly, how would you describe being in love?

Faye: I'm not exactly sure how to answer that question after my recent breakup. I haven't really been able to stop thinking about Karla/Carlos. There's this song by Tamino it's called "Sunflower" I've had it on repeat for weeks. That's how I've been feeling about love I guess.

Interviewer: I see, I'll have to give it a listen. Thanks for sharing more about your life with me Faye. Excited to see your artistic journey continue to unfold!

#choice of games #choose your own adventure #choose your own story #dashingdon #interactive fiction #interactive if #twine if #twine interactive fiction #choice script #themuse if #if: themuse #RO interviews #character profile #interactive story #interact if #twine story #twine game #interactive novel

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featherandferns · 11 months

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Here's a snippet from my latest 18k fic!

“Hey, you’re Kie’s friend, right? That chick in the band?”

Assuming somebody’s talking to you, you look up, to the right, and come eye to eye with JJ. Your mouth instantly goes dry like the Sahara.

“Yeah,” you say. You’re trying to smile but it’s like the muscles in your face have gone lax. Why are you so Goddamn inept sometimes?

“I’m JJ,” he says, fixing his cap. “We met at The Wreck?”

“No, I know,” you tell him. You don’t mean for it to sound rude – merely stating a fact that of course you know who he is – but through your nerves, it sounds clipped. Like he’s bothering you.

JJ nods, a little awkward himself now. “No, yeah, of course.”

Just as you’re willing up the guts to apologise for your hopeless social skills, JJ’s filling the silence once more.

“You fish?”

“What?”

“Do you like fishing?”

What a weird question. “No.”

“Oh,” he says. He glances around. “Then…Why are you in a fishing shop?”

Oh. Yeah, duh.

“Oh, my dad does,” you say, lifting the list to show him. JJ’s eyes skim it briefly and he nods, quietly letting out an ‘ah’. “Asked me to pick some stuff up for him.”

Oh God, shut up.

“Well, this place is a pretty good spot to go for your gear,” he tells you.

“Do you fish?”

And, good job, you’ve managed to ask a normal question.

JJ smiles and it seems as if he’s relaxing into himself again. It makes you feel easier too; it’s always painful when your awkwardness rubs off on others, like the spreading of a disease.

“Yeah, I do. My whole family were fishermen and stuff. Can’t remember a time when I wasn’t fishing,” JJ says.

Whilst you prepare yourself to ask more about his family, and what sort of fishing he does, JJ’s flashing you a friendly grin and nodding down to your list.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Hope you find everything.”

“Oh. Yeah, thanks. Um, you too,” you reply.

You final have enough control of yourself to smile at him. It might be your delusions contorting your perception, but you’re sure JJ’s smile grows a bit brighter when you do.

Turning away, you go back to staring hopelessly at the box in your hand. The front is raving about the benefits of this style of hook, reeling of jargon as if trying to impress a university professor. It’s useless. Not only are your thoughts now hijacked by overthinking everything you said in that conversation, and the fact that JJ Maybank spoke to you on his own agenda; you still haven’t learnt anything about fishing in the last five minutes. You’ll just get a receipt and your dad can come back and fix whatever mess you make of this seemingly easy errand.

“You gonna buy those?”

JJ’s still there, stood at your side. He’s looking at the box from over your shoulder. You look up to him.

“Yeah?”

“Those ones are pure crap. No, no, you want the good stuff,” JJ tells you, shaking his head.

He takes the box from your hand and replaces it with another, from a higher shelf. Tapping on the cover, he begins to read off some of the hooks’ perks (who knew there could be so many?).

“I mean, they’re a little more expensive but you get more bang for your buck, you know? Those other ones’ll snap after like four days on the water.”

When he looks back into your eyes, he must see the blank look behind them. He laughs. “Just trust me on this.”

“Okay,” you say, finding a laugh.

“Here, what else’s on your list?” JJ asks, taking the scrap of paper from you.

You don’t complain. Being in his orbit feels like you’re seeing the earth from space; even if it’s just him helping you buy fishing gear, there’s no way you’re going to pass up this opportunity.

Here's the fic here!

#jj maybank #jj #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #obx #obx fic #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x shy!reader #jj x shy!reader #jj x kook!reader #jj maybank x kook!reader

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defaulttwig · 2 years

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In Another Life

Anakin Skywalker x f!reader

Summary: You formed a crush on Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One, but never act on it due to the Jedi Code. To balance this, you entertain yourself with little fantasies of what could be.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: @peteyprecious616 I told you it would happen LOL

You've kept a terrible secret with you for years now.

And you would continue to keep it.

Until the day you die.

It was unbecoming of you. To desire something as strongly as this was not the Jedi way. You traveled a one-way road down the path to attachment to a man who barely knew you existed. Still, it never stopped you. Neither the guilt nor the shame of your tip-toeing on the line, a hair away from crossing the Jedi Code, could stop you from entertaining thoughts that filled your stomach with butterflies.

You had always wanted to look into his blue eyes. Those deep, all-encompassing eyes that gave away every ounce of emotion on his person, and he carried emotions for all to see. To have them look at you in a way you'd never been looked at before. Selfish, idealistic, a dreamer who called herself a Jedi. You had the potential to push yourself to a higher understanding of the Force, to connect to it and pass that knowledge onto others, but you were stuck on fantasies about the Chosen One. About what you could be to him.

Always from afar, you watched him. Never had you actually interacted with him apart from small talk. Still, it was more than enough to fill the deep sense of longing in your heart. A young crush to keep you afloat, distract you from the Clone Wars, and lift your spirits. Thinking about someone, about him, in such a way, gave you a high that the Jedi never stood for. You grew attached to someone who barely remembered your name.

You always fantasized about him.

The fantasies were all the same. No real beginning. A blurred end. Just, something to distract you.

It goes a little something like this.

In the distance, you spot his tall stature adorning dark robes. Just at the edge of a garden path, the tips of his boots kissing at a pool of water. Ripples spread out from his spot as he shifts and barely brushes the water.

His back is turned to you and he watches the fish move through the pond. The fish are calm, reflecting how you believe he feels inside. After all, he is the Chosen One. You’re drawn to his stillness, taking in his appearance from his robes to his shoulder-length hair. Not even in your fantasies would you think about running your fingers through it. He seems almost untouchable.

He looks up, then, at your approach, but doesn't turn. Instead, he looks up at the blue skies, admiring the serene clouds with a smile. You would stand next to him here and find yourself staring at his side profile. From any angle, he looks amazing. You doubt he was anything but perfect.

The Chosen One. You hold him to a high degree, much like many others, but how could you not? He is a hero, constantly striving for the victory of the Republic, to put an end to the Separatists' agenda. Anakin is powerful, beautiful, smart, capable…you could go on.

He doesn't move when you join his side. Looks at you out of the corner of his eye and chuckles to himself. You find it hard to imagine his laugh, only ever hearing the sound carried across the room. His laughs were brief and rare, depending on his company. You like to imagine it sounds like honey, dripping with warmth and passion and all the qualities of a handsome hero.

"You have something in your hair," he says.

Of course, you do. In your fantasy, you always have something in your hair, to give him an excuse to brush his fingers through it and bring him closer. Which he does, turning partway to you and reaching up. Goosebumps, you can imagine, run up your back from his warm touch. Or cold, if he uses his prosthetic hand.

It did not matter, as long as he was close.

He retracts his hand, letting whatever it was fall away. "Got it."

Your heart beats fast and loud. His face is lit with a captivating smile. You’ve only dreamt of seeing his smile up close and directed at you, rather than from stolen glances from afar. His hand remains in the air and he just dares to tuck some loose strands behind your ear. The brush of his fingers against your cheek sends goosebumps down your arms. You can't help your own smile as he meets your eyes.

"That's better."

You want to tell him you love him. Always dream of telling him here, in this perfect moment. The words catch in your throat though. You choke on them, only able to smile. To laugh and turn away, offer some quip to divert the tension.

As much as you want him to know, you know better than to break the code. This is more than enough, in your dreams. To stand beside him. To wish for more, long to hear him say the words to make you the happiest girl in the whole galaxy. You settle for his friendship.

As you look at him, your throat tightens and you blink. You want so badly to say it. Your stomach twists and you fight off a tremble, swallowing dryly. If you look at him any longer, your emotions might betray you.

You won’t. You would never have it in you to tell him.

Even in your dreams, you're held back from what you truly want.

If you dreamed a little harder, maybe you could say it then.

+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+

In another life, maybe he could love you.

Tears pooled around the rim of your eyes. A shaky hand grasped your stomach. Crumpling your tunic, you weakly clutched the hole to preserve some form of life. You stumbled back, tripping over yourself. Crashing onto your back, you looked up with slightly blurred vision.

Hood drawn over his face, there was no mistaking the man before you. Blue light cast aside the shadow, revealing the face of Anakin Skywalker. Through your teary gaze, you caught the color of his irises. What once held a blue so pure now oozed an angry yellow. Brows drawn in what you could only hazard as frustration, he stared in silence, unmoving in his towering form over you. Only the dull thrum of his lightsaber resounded from him. When your eyes darted to it, his grip tightened.

He first walked up to you and you ignored all the warning sounds from beyond the room you meditated. Ignored them, put all your attention on Anakin and let them fade to the background, muffled by your selfish desire.

You didn't have to strain your ears to catch the sounds down the halls. Now, your focus and emotions were strewn about, taking in everything like a deep breath of fresh air. It burned. In all the other rooms, blaster fire from stormtroopers followed by screams. Voices of frantic Jedi pleading to leave the younglings unharmed. Voices silenced by the blaster fire.

If you reached out through the Force, you would find their light snuffed out. Even the tiny energies of the younglings diminished from existence.

Tears spilled down the sides of your face.

The sheer pain in your abdomen tore you from the force, from reaching out to your companions. Brought down your all but impenetrable mental shield. All thoughts were erased from your mind but one subject remained. The one in front of you, Anakin Skywalker.

How could he do this? He was supposed to be the best of you. He was the hero.

You looked up into the eyes of the man you secretly loved. As hard as you tried to build back your walls, you felt him through the force sparing no corner of your mind. It was too late. He read you like an open book.

His bright, yellow eyes, in all their unfamiliarity, looked elsewhere. They carried an emotion you couldn't describe. Not that you were in the right mind to. This wasn't what you wanted. For all that you wanted, you could never bring yourself to his level. Your heart burned with a heartache neither of you deserved.

Now, two people knew your secret.

He turned away from you. Voice small, he muttered in a tone that should’ve carried more guilt for a murder, "I'm sorry."

Your last memory of Anakin would be him walking away. You could hardly hold your gaze to his retreating figure, watching his dark boots.

Your face twisted, gasping silently on your tears.

You were dying alone.

You loved Anakin Skywalker. You would die loving someone like him. The man who bloodied a sacred temple.

The one you would hold onto until your dying breath, that you took to your grave.

The invisible hold on your throat tightened. Fingers desperately pulling the skin around your stomach wound, you hoped that closing it would afford for a more peaceful death. It stung. Your heart weighed heavy and your tears dried your mouth. You inhaled and exhaled weakly, gaze dropping from dark boots.

One person knew your secret.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

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disinfernus · 4 months

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Teamwork Makes the Interrogation Work

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Edge of Wormwoods PARTIES: Dis and Zofia SUMMARY: What happens when a lampade and a vampire go after the same target? They work together to get answers and rid the world of one less hunter. WARNINGS: Mental manipulation occurs as well as some stabbing.

This one seemed promising, but Dīs grew weary. The year was almost over and they hadn’t gotten much closer to figuring out what happened to their aos sí, a frustrating reality. But they were keen to keep up with this one, at least — maybe make it one last good interrogation before the new year. Or maybe they’d get something good.

They remained largely undetected, keen on keeping themselves out of view until the very last moment — until she showed up. Where had she come from? Had she been tailing this man the whole time? Wherever she came from, she seemed to have the upper hand, so much so that the nymph couldn’t help but to break from their safety blanket and make themself known.

“Wait–” they commanded, pleading, as they became visible once more, glamour taking over instead of their usual immense self. “I need him alive.” Please. Their tone indicated more, but they didn’t exactly have ‘converse about your family drama’ on their agenda for that night.

Several faces had leered down at her in the four months she’d been hidden away. This one certainly hadn’t been the worst offender. Not that that mattered. Being the least worst of her captors didn’t earn the hunter any leniency.

Zofia had been stalking him from a distance through town for what felt like hours. And then he’d made the foolish decision to venture a little ways out of town, toward the woods. She prowled, just far enough away to evade his notice. He might have been able to sense the presence of the undead, but in a town full of them pinning down her location would be like finding a needle in a haystack. She stopped, and watched, and waited- ignoring the fact that every fiber of her being screamed at her to lunge and end it quickly. But she’d only killed the first one quickly so she could escape. The rest? She’d allow herself to enjoy the rest. The moment of silence stretched out into the dark night like a silvery thread.

And then, the thread snapped.

Lunging into action, Zofia threw herself at the young hunter like a caged beast set free. The two went tumbling across the ground before she threw all her weight on top of him, pinning them down. “Gotcha,” She purred, sounding all too pleased with herself. Reaching into their pocket, she fished out a stake first, clicking her tongue. “You won’t be needing this, kochanie.” She threw it far out of his reach before pulling out a blade and resting it against the pretty vein in his neck that fluttered as his heartbeat rose in panic.

Wait-

The vampire’s eyes darted up and her gaze locked on a stranger. Her lip curled up in a snarl, trying to assess whether or not this was going to become a more complicated fight than she’d anticipated. “You had better give me good reason to keep him breathing, and quickly.”

With the knife already kissing the man's neck, their chances of getting what they came for dwindled rapidly. They didn't know her, they'd never seen her before, so what was the perfect combination of words to get her to stand down? Or the perfect combination to ruin it all by spreading his blood across the ground.

Dīs supposed that honesty was the best policy, at least in this instance. They could keep details close to their chest, but maybe a tale of woe and loss was enough to sway her mind otherwise. Their golden eyes showed vividly in the dark, their travel from knife to her face evident. Yes they were scared that this could be it. Who knew when they'd get another whiff of retribution?

The lampade held up both hands, choosing to remain at their spot instead of encroaching further. “He knows someone who was involved in my.. family's death. I need answers.” They nodded to the hunter. “You can kill him after, I don't care.”

Desperate hands scratched and closed at the arm she had pressed into them, holding them in place. It was tiresome.

They said not to kill them yet. They hadn’t said not to hurt them.

An agonized yowl echoed out as Zofia drove her blade into the hunters hand, being careful to avoid touching their blood. Then she noticed the eyes.

She wasn’t sure what they were, exactly. Only that they were likely fae, given the fact that they smelled sweet as honey. Zofia would have contemplated trying to get a taste if she’d been in any other situation. But the fact that they weren’t human meant they likely weren’t looking to give her friend a helping hand.

Studying the stranger with glowing eyes, she threw more of her weight into keeping the hunter pinned down. “They take from everyone.” Her voice was dull despite the rage that lit her eyes. “Get your answers. I’ll see to it he gives them.” Zofia twisted the blade further into the back of the hunter's hand, a grim sort of satisfaction curling up in the chest at the cries.

A grimace found their face at the piercing wail that escaped once the knife plunged into tender flesh. The hand was already sensitive enough when cut by accident, they couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be stabbed through the palm. But they could sort of feel it in the hunter’s yell — was he too loud? Would someone hear? Perhaps, but Dīs could disappear in a snap if their gaze failed them. It hasn’t yet, but they didn’t know what kind of crowd this ruckus would draw.

They take from everyone.

This was not the time to ask her of her own history, but they’d be lying if they said they weren’t at least a little curious. There wasn’t much there in her expression, but the way her eyes seemed to blaze with that statement, perhaps even experience, told them that maybe she wanted to make them feel what she did. She had revenge in her sights; they could respect that. But they didn’t have a lot of time to waste, though, judging by the quickness in the way she stabbed him.

Dīs’ attention faltered from the viscous woman to the man pinned beneath her, writhing and in pain thanks to the piece of metal between his metacarpals. They tilted their head just slightly, just enough so that their eye lines would match up despite his prone position on the ground. He was scared, but he still looked angry, like the wrong move could be the end for either one of them. They didn’t intend on dying that night, so they needed to make sure to keep their questions short and to the point. That should be easy. They had a name — they just needed the location.

“Your cousin. Michel — where is he? His home is empty but I know you know where he is.”

Zofia didn’t particularly care what the stranger thought of her methods of keeping the hunter incapacitated. So long as they were on the same side. Red eyes flickered up to strange glowing ones as she waited for him to begin his interrogation.

The man beneath her writhed and wriggled, looking for freedom if he could just get himself free. But the vampire kept him down to the best of her ability. “Why the fuck would I tell you wear he is?” The hunter spat, his gaze flickering to the stranger keeping watch from a distance, and the vampire who loomed over him. “I’m not telling you anything, jackass.”

Zofia clucked her tongue, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “Wrong answer, kochanie.” She pulled the knife from the back of the man’s hand and repeated the process on his other one. She could feel the burn as some of his blood splashed against her hand. She twisted the knife, and ignored the pain. Glancing over her shoulder, she jerked her chin to beckon the stranger closer. “Come, come. I won’t bite you right now, I’m a bit preoccupied. It would be better if you asked your questions up close, to see if he’s lying. No?”

That was an expected reaction. An annoying one, and a complete waste of time as they all tended to give up in the end anyway — but it was expected all the same. What they didn’t expect, but probably should have, were the red eyes. Vampire. They would have guessed ‘mare’ had it not been for the preternatural display of strength. Of course she had to be a vampire. Dīs felt a weight in their stomach, like a brick falling to the sea floor; their last meeting with one ended poorly and with two new scars for their neck.

She hit him again, this time on the other hand, repeating the process and eliciting another pained cry. They would have gone slow with it, quiet, as if they weren’t even there, but she had the reigns. She was the one in charge. They just hoped the curious kept to themselves that night.

That was when she beckoned Dīs closer. A horrible idea, in their opinion, but did they have any other option? She could get tired of their hesitation and end it all then and there; she seemed the type to not waste any time. The lampade clenched their jaw. They would have to be ready if she turned on them, once she was done with the prey. If she turned on them, but her comment about not biting them right now didn’t exactly give them a lot of confidence that she wouldn’t.

Suddenly feeling like they were stuck between a rock and a hard place, they obliged and drew nearer to the vampire and wriggling man. Stubbornness could be a hard nut to crack, but they were keen to get an answer one way or another. The lampade stood beside them now and dropped slowly to one knee with their eyes fixed on the man’s twisted expression. Pain was a useful tool, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. Dīs had a pleasure in messing with the mind. Humans, and many creatures, had an innate fear of the dark — of the unknown within. Paired with their ability to almost melt the reasoning and reality in their brains, even for only a few moments, was paramount to the lampade’s success. They supposed a knife just wasn’t going to cut it this time.

“Look at me,” the nymph commanded, and when he didn’t and still refused, a darkened hand jumped up to grab the sides of his face and forced his attention on them. “I said look at me,” the yellow glow in their eyes grew with intensity, overtaking the entirety of their sclera, and the shadows of their face changed and writhed, like paint bleeding in from the edge of damp paper. “Where is he?” The hunter’s eyes were now fixed on the endless light that radiated from Dīs’ skull. Michel had been gone for some time now; the driveway was empty, but his neighbors say he didn’t move. So where was he?

They seemed hesitant.

It shouldn’t have surprised Zofia, especially since she’d launched herself at the hunter like she’d never get the chance again. She rolled her eyes, jerking her chin again. “You have my word. You’re not on my agenda tonight. I might not look like it, but I can show restraint.”

As her new partner in crime approached, she removed the blade from the man’s other hand, and brought it back to rest on the column of his throat. If he got any clever ideas, it would just end that much quicker for him. She assumed that whatever magical madness the fae had at their disposal, they’d be far more useful at getting answers from a stubborn ass hunter. Hunters were likely accustomed to pain. They could suffer their way through a few encounters with a blade.

She was concerned for a moment that her mind was beginning to play tricks on her again when a shadowy hand shot out and grabbed hold of the man’s face. Whatever kind of fae this was, she was fairly certain she hadn’t encountered them before. She could see the glow of their eyes reflected on the hunter’s horrified face, and decided it would be for the best that she averted her gaze for the time being.

“I don’t know!” The hunter yelped, their eyes darting about on the strangers changing features. “I-I-I saw him the other day! The other day at the Three Daggers! I did, I swear- The Three Daggers- it’s a bar! It’s a bar in Gatlin Fields! Said he was busy working over-” His eyes widened, realizing he was saying too much.

Zofia frowned. “Keep singing, skowronek. It will be better for you if you do.”

You have my word.

On what, exactly? On not being on her agenda? On not biting them right then? Or was it her word in general? Their body buzzed with the thought of the number of possibilities. Dīs hummed, as if contemplating her motion for belief. “Alright,” they agreed with a small nod, conceding to her persuasive words. “I have your word.” They fought back the smile that threatened to break through their placid expression, instead focusing that energy on the human.

That giddy feeling continued as the hunter finally spilled forth the start of the truth they so desperately were looking for. Every lead led to the possibility of finding peace. The Three Daggers — they knew of the place, but they would be stupid to step through that threshold. That was a hunter bar, a death sentence. Despite the feeling of mental capacity melting, Dīs held on to the man’s mind, grateful for the vampire’s goad and threat for more violence.

Unfortunately for them, maybe not so much for her, their hold was, perhaps, a little too strong. Or maybe they’d had him in their sights too long. Whatever the case, incoherency filled the young hunter’s head, enabling a string of babbling and wide eyes filled with fear and emptiness. He started to thrash against the vampire, ignoring the pain in his hands; too busy with the paranoia and madness that took over.

“Damn it,” the lampade growled in frustration but stood back, being sure to keep their distance so the human could be dealt with by the one holding the knife. They’d done enough already. The madness itself might not last, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. They wasted the opportunity. “Kill him, then.. This,” they gestured to his state, “won’t last forever but he’s useless now.” The Three Daggers was going to have to be enough.

Zofia hadn’t really thought about the words leaving her mouth and who she was saying them to. After all, in that moment they were on the same side. They had both lost to the hands of men like the one beneath her blade. But when she heard them echoed back to her, she realized she may have made a mistake. She swore under her breath, and shrugged. No helping the matter now. She’d deal with whatever the consequences were later.

Then, something changed. She wasn’t sure what had happened, exactly. Whatever the slayer saw on the stranger’s face, it seemed to be too much for his mind to handle. Zofia had gone from having him relatively well pinned down, to struggling to keep the raving lunatic from hitting her as he thrashed about. She hissed as his bloody palm smacked into her arm, her skin burning at the contact.

“So much for a slow death.” Zofia grumbled, moving the blade down to the man’s chest before pressing it down into his heart. “For the other’s you’ve undoubtedly done the same to.” She muttered into the madman’s ear as he gasped at the sudden shock, clarity filling his eyes for one final moment. It wouldn’t be long now. She pulled her blade free, and stood up, watching him as the madness faded as the slayer slowly slipped away.

“Did you at least get some information to help you?” The vampire asked, not sure if she should look up at the stranger. Given the fate of the slayer, it might not be the best idea. She kept her gaze down, eyes locked on the evidence that she was one step closer to being safe again.

Slips ups were easy; they wouldn’t hold that against her. But they would have to think about what she might be able to help them with. She did help with the hunter, a happy accident unplanned by either party, but still somewhat lucrative in the end. The favor wouldn’t be terrible, not when she was willing to hear them out and wait. Just like they’d asked. They’d make sure to thank her in some way.

Dīs watched the blade go in, the sudden impact of pain and dread of death when the blade pierced flesh, meat and bone to reach the heart was striking in comparison to the madness that had just previously taken over. They saw the clarity, yes, and wondered what it was he could be thinking. Did he know he had lost all sense of mental stability? Was he still present but unable to stop it? Or had he been truly gone until his life was snuffed out? Ignorance or immobility?

The glow from their eyes eased up and the shadows on their face slithered back to where they came from. Pupils found their way back to the forefront and two irises reformed, containing the glinting gold within those shapes. They sighed, frustrated but at least they had something.

“I should.. apologize for that.” They rested their hands on their hips. “I didn’t expect him to break that quickly.” An exhale escaped them. “Somewhat. At least I know he is still in town. That gives me hope I will find him.” Dīs looked over the blood that coated the knife and the man that now laid dead. “Are you satisfied?”

She could see the glow recede in her periphery. She assumed whatever magic the fae had been wielding, it had been reversed. And she had to assume that a creature that she now owed gods only knew what to wouldn’t be so quick to see her meet a similar fate to the now motionless slayer.

She looked up at them, curious. They looked normal enough now. It was always the unassuming looking ones, wasn’t it…

“No need.” She said, trying to rub the hunter's blood from where it burned her arm. She hissed in pain at the contact. She’d need to clean that off sooner rather than later. “I’m not. He was not the strongest of his little coterie.” Zofia wiped the knife on the dead slayer’s jacket before stowing the blade away in her pocket once again.

Satisfied. She let out a puff of air that might have been considered a laugh if she could bring her face to form a smile. “He went quicker than I would have liked.” She shrugged. “But I’m better now that one more is gone.” Zofia frowned. “I am sorry for what his friend took from you. I know that pain.”

They noted her discomfort towards the blood on her arm, the way she buffed it away and how her skin burned from the contact. They’ll have to remember that for a rainy day. Their eyes narrowed just slightly when they recalled the handkerchief they kept in their coat. It was stained with their own blood, but maybe it would be of use to her.

“Do you need something for that?” It was the least they could do, and if not, it was no bother to them. At least the kindness was offered.

“How many more of them are there left?” The passing thought of perhaps there could be another connection lingered a little too long; did they really want to get involved? This one already led them to the notorious hunter bar in town, how much further did it go? Her return of kindness softened the hard expression on Dīs’ face. They nodded. “... I appreciate that.. I just wish I knew why. What was their purpose for—”

The lampade stopped themself. Now was not the time. “Your help was very much appreciated,” they might not have been able to do it without her, truthfully, but they wouldn’t admit that out loud. “I bid you good luck with the others,” they nodded towards the dead. A thought crossed over them suddenly. “What is your name? If we were to cross paths again, I’d like to know what to call you..”

It was highly likely that they would, either for the human hunt or the promise itself.

“To wash it off.” She said honestly. “It will be fine. It won’t take very long to heal.” Zofia could deal with the sting. It didn’t hurt that bad now that she’d gotten the majority off.

She shrugged at the question. “I’d tell you if I could trust I knew the answer for certain.” She couldn’t be sure that her mind hadn’t conjured up new faces in addition to the ones from her past. “One main one. A few lackeys. They won’t look for you- as long as you don’t have any ties to my dear friend here.” She nodded to the body.

“They prefer my kind.” They preferred her clan. Her kin. They likely wouldn’t think twice about some random fae, and would let another hunter deal with it. “Hunters in general, or this one?” Zofia asked, her lip curling in distaste. “This one wanted me. And what’s left of my family, if anyone remains.” She explained. “On the whole…”

The vampire sighed, considering the answer. What was the purpose? “To protect their kind from the other, I suppose.” It was the only explanation she could think of that made any sense. Otherwise it was just all for the sake of the hunt.

“Nie ma za co.” She shook her head. “And it isn’t yours to keep. But you can call me Zofia. What can I call you?”

“Alright, fair enough,” they returned with concession, though they were thankful their impromptu interrogation was coming to a close. They wanted to go home and to think about how they could get to Michel. They didn’t exactly know many who would be willing to go into the Three Daggers, at least, none that wouldn’t ping at least one hunter’s attention. No, this needed some thought.

“I’m not too worried about myself..” They should be. It was foolish not to, but they thought back to Inge. This was a dangerous place to live; their heart ached for the life they used to have, one filled with silence and darkness. The surface was too bright and full of danger. There wasn’t enough death, either, despite the walking corpses that surrounded them, that called them friends. “No, no, I had meant.. It’s nothing. Perhaps for another time. I hope there are still some of your clan left.” That was the truth. They knew what it was like to be the last one. At least, presumably.

“As we’re doing. It seems pointless.” Dīs couldn’t help the smile at her assumption. “Don’t worry, I won’t take it. It is beautiful, though. Dīs, I own the Elysium in Worm’s row — if you care to stop by.”

What must it be like, she wondered, to not have to worry about herself. To not have to look over her shoulder, constantly anticipating to look back and see someone poised to strike with a stake behind her. She envied the fae stranger in that regard.

A bitter laugh escaped the vampire's lips and hung in the night air. “I hope that you’re right.” Zofia sighed. “I hope that you are.” But she doubted she’d ever see any of them again. She was quite certain they’d all returned to ash at that point.

“That’s very kind of you.” She nodded in gratitude for the compliment. “I haven’t used it in so very long. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dīs.” Zofia hummed in contemplation. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure. I’ll have to stop by.”

Her gaze caught on the still hunter on the ground. “I don’t suppose the fae have any interesting ways of disposing of things like these?”

There was no real hope that anyone would be still left alive, but Zofia’s clan at least had the better chance. If any of theirs survived, that would be a miracle. They didn’t have much hope for them.

“Well, it suits you. It should stay around for a little while,” they suggested, slightly playfully now that the high energy of the interrogation died down. Though, they were still out in the open, despite the cover of night. The loitering couldn’t continue.

“The pleasure’s mine, despite,” Dīs looked to the same body she regarded and questioned. “Not myself, no. But I know of a few who will have use for it. I’ll take it.” It was unfortunate they couldn’t make other things turn to shadow, inanimate objects or even people, but to bathe it in so much darkness prying eyes would have a hard time making out was the next best thing.

With the body now in their possession (it would be so much easier if they were thirteen feet tall), they gave Zofia a parting bow of their head. “Until next time,” they expressed, meaning it, and knowing that they will indeed see each other again. Either in casual conversation or to cash in on that promise.

“I think it means wisdom,” she said softly. The danger had passed, her focus drifting with it. She wondered how long it would be before her mind began playing tricks on her again. Zofia shook her head. “Not entirely sure it fits.” Three hundred years and she still wasn’t certain if she could be considered wise.

She wondered just who this person knew that would have use for a dead hunter. It was probably best if she didn’t question it. Asking more questions would most likely ask for more trouble, and she had more than her fair share of trouble. “Then he’s all yours.” Zofia sighed looking down at the body. “Tak długo, suko.” She spat at the dead hunter.

She watched as they nodded their head in acknowledgement, and she tipped hers in return, the bloodstained vampire dipping into a slight curtsy. “Until then, Dīs.” She turned and disappeared back into the night. Until then.

#thread #tr; zofia k #thread; teamwork makes the interrogation work

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